The marriage of the third son had been a much greater surprise.
Compton Poynsett was not a family living; but the patron, hearing of
Julius Charnock as a hard-working curate in a distant seaport, wrote
to offer it to him; and the same letter to Mrs. Poynsett to offer it
to him; and the same letter to Mrs Poynsett which conveyed this
gratifying intelligence, also informed her of his having proposed to
the daughter of the commanding officer of the regiment stationed at
the town where lay his present charge. Her father enjoyed the
barren honours of the Earldom of Rathforlane, an unimprovable estate
in a remote corner of Ireland, burthened with successive families of
numerous daughters, so that he was forced to continue in the
service, and the marriage had been hastened by the embarkation of
the regiment for India only two days later. The Rectory had,
however, been found in such a state of dilapidation, that demolition
was the only cure; and thus the Reverend Julius and Lady Rosamond
Charnock were to begin their married life in the family home.

The two youngest sons, Francis and Charles, stood on the other side
of a gap made by the loss of two infants, and were only twenty-one
and nineteen. Frank had passed through Oxford with credit, and had
been promised a Government office; while Charles was intended for
the army; and both had been reading with a tutor who lived at
Willansborough, and was continually employed in cramming, being
reported of as the best 'coach' in the country. Charlie, however,
had passed a week previously, and was to repair to Sandhurst in
another fortnight.

At half-past four there was a light tap at Mrs. Poynsett's door, and
Charlie announced, "Here's the first, mother!" as he brought in a
gray-cloaked figure; and Mrs. Poynsett took a trembling hand, and